Oh No
by pineappble
Summary: or an attempt at satirical self-insertion. I have woken up as the one thing I despise: a Mary-Sue. Now I have to get myself home-before I become important to the plot or something equally stupid.
1. Waking Up

There's a lot of things that could possibly go through my mind when I wake up in the morning. Usually it's something about not remembering where I put my glasses or using the bathroom or holy-crud-it's-the-garabage-truck-and-the-sun-isn' t-up-and-it's-Monday-and-seriously-why-can't-I-sle ep-in. What I didn't expect was a splitting headache. It hurt enough I didn't want to move.

"She got an id?"

The voice was gruff and obviously male. I wondered briefly if I had landed myself in the hospital but ruled it out. Not bright enough and no beeping.

"I think she has one of those medical alert bracelets." Someone grabbed my wrist.

Any morning muddle wore off at the touch. Despite the pain, I forced my eyes open. It was blurry so I hadn't fallen asleep with my glasses on. I couldn't see the man holding my wrist or his friend clearly. "What?"

"Hey, sleeping beauty," the one further from me said. "Want to tell us how you ended up outside our top-secret head quarters?"

"Ah—What?"

The man holding my wrist had squatted next to me on the bed I seem to have been dumped on—not mine, obviously. I register that he's tall but not much more. He dropped my wrist and dug through a bag. "Glasses or contacts?" He held two cases.

_Contacts? Since when did I have contacts? _"Glasses." I sat up and put them on. They were mine, thankfully. I could see.

As soon as my vision cleared, I yelled. "Oh, no. Oh, no. Crud, fudge. Curses." I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I backed myself into the corner opposite where my head had been. "Nope. You are—nope. Can't be."

The one that had went to check my bracelet straightened to his full 6 foot 5. "You know who we are, don't you?"

Well, this was brilliant. I felt like I had a hangover and I had woken up in a fan fiction. An undoubtedly horrible, self-insertion, Mary-Sue, featuring me as Mary-Sue, fan fiction. "You're Sam. That's Dean. And this is bad."

"How do you know who we are?"

"Um—" _Oh. Crap. What's the standard response in these things? Do I use the standard? Does doing something else make me even more of a Mary-Sue? _"I can't explain that." _I just can't alter their universe by telling them what I know. _"I can't explain anything right now. The last thing I knew, I was in my apartment. That's in Washington, the state."

"Okay..." Dean said slowly. "Can you at least tell us who you are?"

"Um...Well, technically it's Cristin."

"Technically? What kind of answer is technically, Kirsten?"

"It's Cristin. R before I. And you've woken up in alternate universes before. It's not easy."

"Alternate universe? So you're not a prophet?"

"I didn't say I was a prophet! I said I knew who you were. There's a difference. I am nothing the least bit useful or threatening if that helps." I put my hands up. "Although, you are more than welcome to shoot me. If you want. I'd rather you didn't but there are worse ways to go." I realized what I had been doing and put my hand over my mouth. "Crap," I mumbled through my fingers. "I'm rambling. Sorry. I do that when I'm nervous."

"How much do you know about us?"

"That depends on when we are." The vagueness of my my answers were going to bother everyone, myself included. "I can't mess up your plot line—I mean time line. There are rules."

"So, now you're a time-traveler?"

"No." I ran my fingers through my hair. I barely registered surprise at how soft it was. "Well, maybe. You haven't told me what year it is yet."

"It's 2013."

"Okay, I'm not a time-traveler. At least not by years. Do you know where Cas is?"

"You know about Cas?"

"Of course she knows who Cas is," Sam replied. "If she knows who we are, she knows who Cas is."

"I don't like this, Sam. This _kid _literally drops from the sky right after all the angels fall. She's not an angel. She'd be acting different if she was."

"Maybe we should wake up Cas. He might know something."

"I'm not a kid. I'm 22—well, almost. And Cas probably doesn't know anything." If he was human, he wouldn't. A universe-traveling cripple didn't sound like a story Metatron/Marvin would tell. "Where's Kevin?"

"Also sleeping."

"And Crowley?"

"Chained up in our dungeon, which is where we should put you. We don't even know if you're human, _Kirsten T__echnically_."

"That's a good point. That's what I'd do with me, especially since I'm not even sure I'm human." I needed to pee. "Look, I need a bathroom. Can the interrogation take a back seat for a moment?"

"It's right over there." Dean pointed.

"Right." I tried to hide the concern in my voice. My legs were stiff but it was impossible to tell if was because of my "fall" or my cerebral palsy. As great as it would be to wake up in another universe cured from a serious medical condition, I didn't want to become even more of a Mary-Sue. The most I did was look at the back of my calves. The long scars were still there.

I took a deep breath and tried to stand. My legs screamed at me as I forced them to straighten.

"Are you alright?"

"No. I don't think I can walk without help right now." I felt them buckle and I sat back down. "I have cerebral palsy."

Dean cursed. "Are you saying that you're _crippled?_" he demanded. "Of all the people to randomly fall on us, we get a _cripple?_"

"Dean," Sam warned. "You shouldn't call her that."

"I call myself that all the time. It's not a problem." There were bigger issues than what Dean wanted to call me. "I'll crawl."

I found the bathroom, feeling a bit odd. I hadn't had to crawl since my surgery. I looked at my reflection after I had finished, gripping the sink to stand. I still looked like myself, with only a few changes. My hair was it's normal dark brown color, not green and healthier looking. I had double piercings and one up in the cartilage on the left. My boobs felt slightly smaller and I wore jeans rather than a skirt. Something told me my tattoo was gone. I'd have to ask someone to check.

I crawled back to the Winchesters and pulled myself onto the couch. Dean opened his mouth to continue asking questions, but I cut him off. "I don't want to do this," I admitted. "It's against my religion. We can't avoid it though. Would one of you mind looking at my back and shoulders?"

"Why?" "Are you hurt?" The two questions overlapped. I was too dazed to figure out who said what.

"Something's off. Please." I waited for a yes and then turned to face the back of the sofa. My hands shook as I pulled the shirt up and part way over my head. The over the head was to cover my blush. "Is there an eye tattooed on my left shoulder?"

"No. Is there any reason why you have scars?" Sam asked as I covered my back again.

"I shouldn't but helps with the theory."

"What theory?"

"I think magic or God or whatever switched the Cristin in this universe with me. My body is a little different but I still recognize myself."

"That doesn't explain why you're here or how you know who we are." Dean repeated.

"You're a television show." Now that I knew we were in between the last season and the new one , I could let on to the level of my knowledge. "You've been to that universe, right? The one where you're actors."

"Yes, but that still doesn't explain why you're here," Dean repeated.

"It might just be that that Cristin needs to learn something from my universe. Equal exchange or something. Or I could be hallucinating or dreaming." I hadn't considered that yet but it was as good as anything else my mind could come up with. "But I doubt that. This seems a bit too detailed for an hallucination. And I usually have nightmares. This isn't quite a nightmare." _Yet, _I added internally.

"So, you don't need us, right? We can drive you to Washington or wherever you come from and leave you there to figure this out."

"You can't do that," a gruff voice interrupted. "I know who you are here. We've met."

My throat tightened. I couldn't see Cas from around Sam but the voice couldn't anyone else. I read enough self-insertion fics to know it couldn't be good news.


	2. Two Mes? Great Just Great

I baced myself for the news. What was I? Or rather, who was this other me? Demon or angel vessel? Antichrist? False prophetess? Oddly soild ghost? Celebrity? Really, the options were limitless and all bad. Every single thing I thought of since waking up put firmly in the Mary-Sue catergory. And that was the last thing I wanted to be.

"Her father was the vessel for one of my brothers. I came to you—her—when you prayed for your brother to come back sane. You were 16."

_That gets an award for __absurd. _"Clearly whoever you met isn't me. I'm not religious enough for that, espeically not at 16." Neither my biological father or the man I considered my father where righteous enough to be an angel's vessel. And me praying for either of them was surprising. I was an athesit when 16. Whoever this Cristin was, we didn't have all that much in common.

"You saw me in my real form."

That made me do a double take. Yes, they exist. I _know. _Stupid right? "What was the other me's last name?" My hand went up to my earings. It felt weird—looking like myself but not being myself. This was worse than any alien/time travel/science fiction stuff I had written.

"If I recall correctly, it was Jones."

"That's funny. My last name is McMullen."

"Were you given up for adoption? That isn't a name you could have."

"I changed it in college. And how do know which names I should have?" Well, if I wasn't a Mary-Sue before this, I certainly was now. "The fact that I have mulitple last names is public knowledge in my world but it shouldn't be here."

"Much like these two, I have wanted to keep watch over you. When your brother's body was found, you went missing, lost amoung the humans. Perhaps had I not failed you, you would not be in this situtation."

"We could please call the other me something else?" My skin crawled at the idea of someone else being me. Having a twin was one thing, but there being two mes was horrid. Not impossible, if there was any warrent to theortical phyics, but still creepy. "We're different people. You didn't fail me. You failed her—Jones or whomever."

The other thought was that both Jones and I sounded like Mary-Sues. It was two for the price of one, apparently. I didn't share this with the Winchesters or Castiel. They had enough fangirls. And I wasn't going to admit I was one.

"So," Dean said. "How do we get this Cristin and Jones back where they belong?"

"I do not know." Castiel looked confused. "This seems to be beyond the powers of heaven. Even if I were still an angel, I do not think I could fix this."

My brain searched for answer. There were several possible plotlines I could think of. I could fall asleep and wake up in my own bed. I could get knocked unconious and wake up in my local hospital. I could die and wake up somewhere in my own universe (hopefully as a last option, I wouldn't want to be dead for real). Maybe Jones had to do something. I didn't make a habit of reading these types of fan fiction. They were normally poorly written and unintentionally satrical.

"We can't just keep her here! We have to deal with the fallen angels and Crowley and the tablets! We don't have to deal with a kid!"

"I'm not a kid." Of all the things I had imagined being called by fictional charcters, kid was not one of them. My name or one of my nicknames, sure, but not kid. I had enough being called kiddo in my own universe.

Dean ingnored me and continued complaining. "It's not like she can help! She can't even walk, Cas!"

No one jumped to my defense on that. I wasn't surprised. From what I knew of the show, almost all of the charaters were pratical. Having a universe-hopping cripple along for the ride wasn't practical. I could jump to my own denfense, however. "There's a lot of papers and books here. I can read. Maybe I can help find some way to help. Or at least find my own way home."

I looked around, finding the bag where my glasses had been stored. "And Jones brought this bag. Maybe there's a hint to why I'm here instead. I just need a way around and food. I can manage, really."

Dean humpted and walked away. "Fine, but you or the other you cause any problems, you're out."

"Wouldn't want it any other way, sir." I had nnever imagined calling Dean by his first name but I couldn't call him Winchester. Someone (most likely me) would get confused. "Where do you want me to start?"

As it turns out, I didn't get much of a chance to start anything. Shortly after Dean dropped a book on my lap, I found myself nodding off. My head still hurt and I was still confused. Very confused. I should be too smart to get in these situtions. I put my head down on the book. "Ugh."

"Who are you?"

"Cristin. Hi, Kevin. I'd say nice to meet you, but it's not." I didn't look up. How could I? There was nothing I could do. I already knew what he looked like.

"You okay, Crista?"

Oh, so even imaginary people can't get my name right? Who was writing this? Someone I knew in high school? "Do I look okay?" At least I had control over my own reactions. If I started saying something I would never say, then we'd have a problem.

"Um..."

"Ugh. I'm being rude again, aren't I?" I looked up and tried to smile. "Look, it's been a weird day. I don't want to talk. I can be horrid sometimes."

"Right." He looked like he was about to say something else but instead he walked away.

I tried to read the book Dean had given me but whatever it was, it didn't help with the situtation. Fantasy had never been my thing. There was no science in any of it. Eventually, I shut the book, curled my legs under me, and nodded off to sleep.

* * *

"Cristin. Cristin! DAMN IT, MCMULLEN! WAKE UP!"

"Well, that rules out that theory," I mumbled as I woke up. My headache had stopped but I was still trapped in Supernatural. "Sorry."

"Don't do that," Dean demanded. "We've been trying to wake you up for an hour."

I didn't like the sound of that. Not at all. It sounded like someone _fictional_ was getting attached to me. There was no visable plot device to even get them to like me yet, let alone be worried when I decided to nap. "Yeah, do me a favor, don't worry next time. In fact, don't worry about me at all."

"Well, aren't you Princess Pleasant? You mentioned having a condition—"

"Cerebral Palsy," both Sam and I said in unison.

"And so I got worried."

"One, all I did was fall asleep. Two, you shouldn't be worrying about me. It's dangerous. And creepy." If a writer was behind this garabage, I was going to punch them, _hard_. "I just got here. No need to get attached." I might as well change my name. Good gosh, what else could possibly go Sue? "I'll be out of here before you know it."

"I did some research into Jones, the other you," Sam said, ending the conversation. "Cas was right. Her father disspeared and then died a few years later, murder. Her mother and younger sister live in Phildaphedia. She has one older half-brother in Idaho with his father. Mom's first husband, apparently."

"Younger sister? Are you sure? In my world, I have a twin."

"Yeah. I read that you had a twin _brother. _He died shortly after he was born. Sorry." Sam looked confused. "I didn't realize..."

"Oh, I'm not upset!" I assured him. "Different universe, remember? My sister is still alive." As far as I knew. I hadn't actually seen her since we graduated high school. Not that I was going to tell them that. "Go on."

"Jones had a full-ride to Penn State. Econominncs. After her father's body was found, she dropped out. No one had really seen her since." Sam sat down beside me.

"We think you should go talk to the mother." Dean added. "She might have some idea as to why Jones would do this."

It was getting worse by the moment. Their entire plot seemed to have come off course to acommidate my enterance into the universe. I could list all of the problems with that but since I had a much as a clue as what was going to happen in Season Nine as any other fan, I didn't know how bad I was messing things up. Instead, I had to figure out how to avoid an adventure to visit not-my-mother.

"You're kidding, right? You want me to talk to a woman I don't know about myself? She'd expect me to know things I can't possibly know. And how am getting to Philly? You guys have bigger fish to fry. You said it yourself. The tablets, Crowley, the entire legion of Heaven falling from the sky. Seriously. I am not your primary concern."

"We're not any closer to figuring any of what you just listed off," Dean replied. "Look, kid, it's our job to help people. Let us help you."

I sighed. What to do? What to do? I had no idea how to deal with these guys. Every fiber of my being seemed to be telling me what was happening was wrong. "I don't have a choice, do I?"


	3. UmMe and my big mouth

_**A/N: I had to up the rating. Sorry guys. This chapter gets an award for being embarrassing. It made me laugh the entire time I wrote it but it's still embarrassing.**_

Line

I don't know where they found it, but someone located a wheelchair that would fit into the backseat of the Impala. I suspected that they bought it somewhere. It was relatively new, in better shape than the one from my universe, and some of the parts were an obnoxious bright yellow.

"Ready to go?" Dean said as he pushed it into the room.

I looked up from yet another useless book. "I can't believe you're dragging me to Philly. You have more important things to do. Trust me." I tapped the side of my head. "I know things." What I didn't say is that it seemed highly out of character. This went against every good sense in my body—not to mention every creative writing class and forum I had stalked.

"Look at it like this," Sam interrupted. "We get you home now and then we'll get back to what you think we're supposed to be doing."

I was getting scared that somehow they wouldn't want me to leave when the time came. "And for now I have to everything you say or I could get my butt killed by something, right?" The sarcasm in my voice couldn't be clearer in my personal opinion.

"Exactly," Dean answered, seeming unfazed by it. "Are you going to be able to get into this thing or do I get to lift you?"

I tried my darnest to ignore the fact that he said "or do I _get _to lift you," but I could feel a blush. I was fairly sure the Dean I would write would say "or do I _have_ to lift you." I wasn't pretty or skinny and in my universe, he was a married man with a baby. The person responsible for this was going to die.

"I've crawled to the bathroom. I think I manage a few feet." I rolled my eyes and pushed myself to my feet. I wobbled and stumbled. Although Jones had the same scars from the surgery that had allowed me to learn to walk, it clearly hadn't worked as well for her. I managed to make it into the chair though.

Dean raised an eyebrow and my struggle. "You sure about that, Christine?"

"For the last time, it's Cristin. You got it right earlier. Knock it off. Can we just get this 20-something hour drive over with?"

Line

I managed to get away with sleeping most of the journey but that's because I stopped any attempt at conversation. Whenever Sam or Dean tried to ask me questions about how different this world and my own were, I shut them down. I wasn't going to tell them about my personal life. It was messed up enough. I also claimed I thought I might eventually wake up in my own universe. It was worth the attempt.

Also, the Impala wasn't roomy with a wheelchair crammed in the backseat. Just saying.

When we pulled up to a hotel, I was already awake but was keeping up appearances. Sam and Dean shared a look. "How do we do this?" Dean asked.

"She'll probably want her own room," Sam answered.

"But you saw her trying to walk, Sam. I don't want to let her out of my sight. What if she falls or gets hurt?"

"Just get adjoining rooms, morons," I grumbled, unwilling to listen to the unnecessary protective spiel any longer. "And I'm fine. You guys got that wheelchair for a reason."

Unsurprisingly, I didn't get a wink of sleep. With having to face my not-mother and the sleeping I had done on the trip, I wasn't tired. Sam and Dean had hit the hay as soon as they had eaten. I hadn't eaten since I showed up here. I didn't want to. I was sure I'd get hungry eventually. It also didn't help that Dean had insisted we keep the door between the rooms open in case I needed something.

I spent my time staring at the ceiling. I considered turning on the television but the idea of watching made me feel a little sick. TV had gotten me into this mess. I even dug through Jones' bag. I had discovered some clothes, a dead cellphone, and a wallet with a small amount of cash in it. No clues as to how she and I had switched places.

Eventually I saw a light turn on in the other room. Dean, without so much as a knock on the door frame, walked into my room. "I know you're awake."

"Kindly stop trying to befriend me, sir," I replied. "And I've sent most the last few days sleeping so duh."

"Why do keep calling me sir?"

"I have a thing for being proper." I roll my eyes even though I know he probably can't see them. "And I'm serious. Please stop trying to get me to like you. To me, it isn't you at all."

"More of that 'we're a TV show' thing?"

"Yes. What to do want? Sam isn't up yet."

"You should call Jones' Mom."

"At three o'clock in the morning? Right. Bother me when you get a good idea."

"From what Sam's read, you've been missing for four years. She's been through enough, don't you think?"

"Fine. Do we have a phone number? I'll at least leave a message." Never mind that I had no idea how to talk like someone I wasn't.

Dean handed me a cellphone, the number already dialed. "We have an address too. You might want to check it though."

I took the phone with a sigh. This continued to be the stupidest idea I had heard. I hit send. After one ring, someone answered. "Hello, Jones residence?"

"Mom?" I answered back. The similarities between their voices was uncanny. "It's me. Cristin."

"Cristin? Oh, baby, where are you?"

"Actually, I'm in town. Do you still live at the house?" I had to channel all my improv training into the conversation.

"Oh, baby. Of course we are. Why don't you stop by for lunch? Noon?"

"Of course. Noon sounds great." I looked over at Dean, a sudden and Mary-Sueish thought coming to mind. We needed to get whichever one of them was going with me a cover, and fast. "Say, is it okay if I bring someone with me?"

"Who is it?"

"My...Um." Crap. I had no non-Sue ideas in my head. I panicked and stopped talking.

"It's your boyfriend, isn't it? You came here with your boyfriend." She sounded more excited than my mother would be at the idea, at least.

"Sure, whatever." I realized what I said the moment it left my mouth. I had just affirmed that one of the Winchesters was going to have to pretend I was dating him. Why hadn't we brought Kevin? It would have made sense to bring Kevin. At least then there wouldn't have been an over ten-year age difference. I nearly dropped the phone.

Dean gave me a look as I quickly stumbled out my good byes and hung up. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"I think I just called one of you my boyfriend." I closed my eyes, wincing. I expected yelling, loud enough to wake Sam and maybe some swearing. "I'm sorry?"

"That works better than any lie I could have come up with," he said instead. "You can't exactly pass for law enforcement."

"But-" Oh no. I had gotten over my head. "She's going to ask us how we met. What you do for a living. About your family. Where we live." I felt another blush creep across my cheeks. "If she's anything like my mother, she's going to ask whether or not we're—well, you know."

_Please don't say it, Dean. Just __don't ask. Leave it alone._

"It's nothing to be nervous about. It would be natural for her to assume that."

I let out surprised a hiccup. He didn't mention the chance that I might prefer having Sam doing the undercover work. Which I did, by the way. Talking with either one about this stuff was embarrassing but at least Sam was a little bit closer to my age. "Dean, I don't want to have this conversation."

"You're the one that decided I was your boyfriend." He chuckled at my discomfort. "Everything will be fine."

"I did not!" I whispered, finally aware that Sam might be awake and listening in. "She asked if who I was bringing was my boyfriend and I panicked and said sure. You were here the entire time! I didn't say a name! You're the one who assumed it's going to be you!"

"Of course it's going to be me. You know what Sam was like after those challenges. He needs all the rest he can get." He sat down on the bed beside me. I scooted away slightly but knew I couldn't run—not unless I wanted him to help me get off the floor. "Does this have something to do with the fact that you're a virgin?"

"It's that obvious?" I groaned.

"You've been turning redder the more we've talked about it. It's more than obvious. If it comes up, let me do the talking. I guess I better stop calling you kid. You might want to get some rest. When Sam wakes up, tell him I went to go pick up food." He squeezed my hand. "I promise. You'll be fine."

I pulled my hand away and shook it out as he left via the exit door of my room. I shuddered. It wasn't that Dean was gross or anything but I was uncomfortable enough with visiting Jones' mom. Now, I had to pretend I was dating someone who was still mostly fictional (or married!) in my mind. Any of those fangirls who thought it was okay to fantasize about this sort of thing were clearly wrong. They had no idea what it was like to be in the situation.


End file.
